"Just seems impossible, Doctor." Mordin relayed to Chakwas after Shepard had left for Illium. "Nearing the end of my life. Illogical time for body to pursue reproduction." Even he guffawed at what he had said. "Inter species reproduction only found successful in cases of asari." He shook his head from side to side. "No, no, no. Completely illogical. Why now? Why so close to the end of my life cycle?"
The salarian cradled his forehead in his hands and did something he'd never dared before. He sobbed.
Chakwas was at a loss of things to do for the man, so she settled for pulling him into a comforting embrace. She hushed him and rocked back and forth. All Mordin could do was sniffle and weep. His wrinkled lids were pressed tightly together, though it did nothing to stem the flow of tears down his equally wrinkled cheeks.
He cried for what felt like hours before moving his stiff, aching muscles and shrugging off the doctor's arms. "Doctor. Very confused. At a difficult point in my life to imprint. Opinion on how to proceed?"
She offered him a smile and wiped a tear from his face. "There, there." She pulled him into another motherly hug and rubbed circles in his back. "Well, if you ask me, I think coffee is a good place to start."
He pulled away to stare at her disbelievingly, searching for any sign that she was lying. "Must admit, not the answer I was expecting."
"Well, what do you want me to say?"
He began pacing, tapping his chin. "Was expecting scolding, tell me I'm acting foolish. Discourage me, Doctor. Out of my element." He inhaled deeply and quickly. "Almost dead, dying."
"The way I see it, we're all dying here." Her eyes narrowed determinedly. "Going out for coffee won't kill you."
"Doctor-"
"Mordin Solus. As your doctor, I'm telling you to take a day off. As your friend, I'm telling you to spend that day off with Shepard." That shut him up. "Now, I want you go back to your lab and wait for Shepard to come back and then you can ask her about that coffee, hmm?" Mordin nodded slightly in understanding and took Chakwas' hand in his own. He grasped it firmly and shook it.
"Thank you, Doctor. Will return to my lab and think the situation through. Maybe do research." She withdrew her hand from his gloved one.
"I have faith in you, Professor."
"Thank you."
He left the medical bay confident, but if someone had found him in his lab it would have appeared to be a very different story. He began by researching romantic customs in humans. He'd had to study social customs of the Earth species, but in his education the subject of romantic relations had only barely been touched. Mordin learned that the species had a wide diversity of cultures and ideas about romantic relationships, though the term 'dating' appeared quite often. According to the extranet, dating wasn't always, but was sometimes preceded by gift giving. It was about that time that the old professor started to get nervous and rummage through every drawer, cabinet, and box in the lab for anything that closely resembled a present.
He figured that, as dearly as he enjoyed conducting experiments of dried asari tentacles and turian warts, Shepard would not feel the same. He had narrowed down his search to a silver cup he had received from the hanar and an asasri beaded headpiece when something else caught his eye. It was in a box he had already gone through that was now shoved haphazardly under the lab table.
At first glance, he couldn't tell what it was, only that it was a pale pink. He promptly dropped the vial of phosphate he had be examining and bent down to pull the box back out. Moving aside papers and trinkets, he took the pink object in his hand and brought it closer to his face, dusting off the thin layer of dust and making himself sneeze in the process. Mordin smiled and his concave chest swelled with pride.
It was a shell. A simple, pink, small shell, just small enough to fit easily in his pocket. It was perfect. He tripped and stumbled over discarded documents and overturned trashcans to get back to his desk. The professor scribbled down a check list and scratched out the first item on the list. His heart was thudding as he patted down his lab coat, muttering instructions to himself before something hit him. "Clothes!"
Mordin half fell to a closet tucked away in the corner of his lab next to his folded bedsheets. He palmed the door key and his face fell when the closet opened and he remembered that it was entirely empty. Always the thinker, however, he didn't mope, instead running for the hallway that joined the lab and the armory.
"Lieutenant Taylor!" Jacob greeted him with a salute only to be interrupted by Mordin. "No, no, no time. Need formal clothing."
Jacob pressed his eyebrows and gave Mordin a puzzled, blank stare. "Professor, I hardly think that my clothes would be adequate for your..." He paused, looking the man opposite him up and down from head to toe. "...alien frame."
"No time. Asking as your friend." He inhaled deeply. "Please."
The dark skinned man heaved a reluctant sigh and motioned for Mordin to follow. He led him to the cabin quarters for the crew and kicked a chest out from under his bunk. "Here, this is where I keep my clothes, take what- hey!"
Mordin was kneeling next to the chest before Jacob could finish his sentence."Very appreciative. Will return to you after I'm done." He took a bundle of clothes into his arms, a a belt, and found the bathroom. He slipped out of his lab coat and communication collar with minor difficulties, it was getting into the new clothes that proved to be a challenge. The button-up shirt was easy enough. He'd watched other male crew members put them on before. He put his arms sleeves and buttoned it up, disappointed that the dip in his chest could, more or less, be distinguished.
The pants were like any other pair of pants he'd ever worn, but far too large. No sooner had he fashioned them around his hips than they pooled around his ankles. In an acrobatic feat, he maneuvered his back to bend backwards and take the belt from where he had hung it in the shower. He pulled the trousers back up to his hips and wove the belt through the belt loops. He tucked the bottom of the borrowed shirt in to the waistband of the dark brown pants. After a few moments of searching, he found the green cardigan he'd taken from the chest. Again, easy enough to put on.
He rolled up the bottom of the pant legs and stood back to admire his work in the mirror. Every article of clothing was too big for him, but he didn't see that. He saw a dashing young man—a young human man, ready to sweep the commander off of her feet. One detail was doing a lot to ruin his dream, though. He glared at the dip in his chest and stood in the bathroom, bare feet on the tiled floor, adjusting the cardigan until he was satisfied with how it hid his imperfection and buttoned three of the buttons.
Mordin grinned.
"Looking good."
Retrieving the shell from the pocket of his lab coat, he made his way back to the lab with his discarded clothes in hand. He got odd looks from the crew as he padded to his room, but disregarded them. He dumped his lab coat unceremoniously in the corner by his bed sheets. Doing a once over in the reflection of the window, he nervously clutched his broken horn and scowled. Yet another thing about him that was so alien to Shepard.
He slumped and rubbed his horn gingerly at first, then with more intensity. The feeling of the friction made blood rush between his legs. The scientist pulled his hand away and traced the tips of his three fingers down to the base of his skull, rubbing and massaging there. A moan escaped his lips as his hand not in use trailed down his torso and played with his hipbones.
The professor was so engrossed in his ministrations that he didn't hear the door slide open.
"Mordin!" An upbeat Shepard called.
"SHEPARD!" Mordin stopped instantly and hid his hands behind his back. "Was not expecting you back so soon. Just finished running tests on Collector DNA. Very busy." Judging from her expression, she didn't realize what she'd walked in on.
"I got you something."
That caught his attention. "Was not expecting a gift."
She laughed. "Of course you weren't. That's why I got you one." She handed him a sack and watched as his eyes lit up and he removed the packaging. Inside was a dusty, cracked record with scratches running vertically on the surface. "I know you probably can't read it, but-"
"Gilbert and Sullivan." A high pitched humming came from his chest and a pleased grin graced his features. "Much appreciation. Was not aware they still existed."
Shepard inched closer and stared at his chest. "I found it on Illium. I like what you're wearing."
In truth, she thought he looked comical, but in a charming way. "Really? Found it in the closet." He lied. "Thought it looked human." Shepard screwed up her face and plucked at the cotton of the shirt.
"Why would you want to look human?"
Mordin looked as though he was going to answer, but dug a hand into his pocket instead. He procured the light pink shell and stared at it longingly for a second, then handed it to the woman in front of him. "Found this today. For you." She stared at it in the same way he had and slid it into her own palm with care one wouldn't expect to find in the commander.
"It's beautiful, Mordin." She ran her fingers over the spine and examined it thoroughly. "Thank you." Mordin could almost swear his heart burst when she looked up at him, so close, with those eyes. He knew for a fact that his horns and neck were turning a bright shade of green. The humming that was becoming increasingly familiar made itself known as he lifted his left hand in the air, almost in a trance, showing her his palm.
Shepard took her own hand and laid it flat against his, holding her fingers so her hand more closely resembled his without breaking eye contact. His hum dropped two octaves in pitch and grew in volume, electric sparks passing between them.
"Shepard." He spoke, sounding out of breath. She pressed herself closer in response. "Was wondering if you would like coffee." Mordin cleared his throat and inhaled sharply. "With me. A date."
